


Don't Face the Storm Alone

by Terion



Series: An Arrangement of Love Struck Fools [2]
Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Post-Canon, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 13:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16724658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terion/pseuds/Terion
Summary: As the November of 1948 approaches, Geoffrey has been in New York living with Jonathan and Elisabeth for a few months...and he begins to notice some strange behavior from his Maker. And though Elisabeth knows the reason for the change, even she isn't fully prepared for what happens.





	Don't Face the Storm Alone

**Author's Note:**

> I originally intended to have this done around Halloween but obviously that didn't happen. It wouldn't have made for a very good Halloween themed story, anyway.
> 
> There are some tough topics dealt with in this. They may be vampires but they're still people and they're still dealing with shit. But, thankfully, they've got each other to lean on.

“Is Reid... _moodier_...than usual?”

Elisabeth glanced up from her book at the question, frowning mildly at Geoffrey where he stood in the doorway to their home’s sitting room. It was still... _interesting_...to think of _home_ and include the hunter in it but it had been so for months now since he had shown up upon their doorstep. That had been during the last days of... _oh_.

It was nearly November.

“Is there a particular reason you’re asking, Geoffrey?” she asked as she folded the ribbon she used as her bookmark into the pages to mark her place.

The man shifted in the doorway then leaned against the side of it, his brow pulled down into a worried furrow. Lifting one hand, he tapped at his temple before replying, “He’s... _off_. Up here. Normally he can’t hide for shit but now he’s locked up tight.”

Elisabeth tilted her head slightly at that, leaning forward to set her book on the coffee table. She envied them their connection a little, even though she knew Geoffrey was still not entirely open to sharing emotionally. While she and her father had had their own connection, it had not been like theirs.

She sometimes felt theirs was so _open_ because of how deeply Jonathan felt for everything.

“And this worries you?” she pressed gently.

Geoffrey’s eyes darted away from her for a moment and then shifted back as he replied, "After thirty years of being pretty constantly aware of him? Yes.” Sighing, the former hunter moved forward and sat down next to her on the couch. He then, to her shock, reached out for her hand and held tight to it without looking at her. That action alone told Elisabeth how worried he was. How much he _cared_.

Letting out a small sigh herself, she asked, “What do you know of when Jonathan was turned? Of the night it happened?”

The man beside her frowned before answering. “There was a leech who rose in Southwark around that time. Killed a woman there and eluded my men when they tried to kill it. I've always assumed that one was Reid given the timing.” Geoffrey turned to look at her then and asked, “Am I right?”

Nodding, Elisabeth replied, “You are. He was abandoned by his Maker near the docks he arrived on, his body looted and tossed into the mass grave at Southwark. When he rose, alone with his hunger and no one to guide him, he attacked the first person who found him. His dear sister, Mary, who had been searching desperately for him when he did not come home.”

“His own sister?!”

“Do not be quick to judge him, Geoffrey,” she scolded gently. “You and I had the benefit of our Maker’s at our sides when we rose, to guide us in those first few moments. He was alone and the hunger of a newly risen vampire is difficult to control. Jonathan had no idea who she was until it was too late.”

The former hunter let out a heavy sigh at that and stated, “Fine, no judgement. What does all that have to do with that?”

Elisabeth frowned then asked, “You have never killed to feed, have you?”

“No. I hunted Skals unless those were scarce and then I got donations from Hawk and those of the Guard who knew. I've thankfully never had to kill.”

“And what of the knowledge of Priwen? Are you aware of what happens when a vampire takes a life? When they fully embrace it?”

Geoffrey frowned and asked, “Never seen anything about that in the records...but shit like that was more Stole than us. Most of our information we took during the split was on how to kill them.”

Sighing, Elisabeth squeezed his hand and stared off where she knew Jonathan was in the house, hiding within his personal office downstairs. Likely sitting with his head in his hands on the desk, fingers tangled in his hair, crying silent tears as he was haunted by his sister's memories.

“We remember it,” she stated softly. “Not all of their memories but there is an...impression...left behind. And it does not ever fade away.”

“So you're telling me that Reid is _literally haunted_ by his sister. That this isn't just bad memories, it literally _is_ her memory.”

“In a fashion, yes.”

“Fuck.”

Elisabeth chuckled softly and nodded before she said sadly, “In our time together I have not been able to get him to share this with me. He has always hidden himself away on these nights every year...punishing himself. The memories are so much worse on the days surrounding her death.”

She then sighed and leaned over, resting her head against his shoulder. “I had hoped it might be different with you here,” she mused softly. “That he might open up if he had someone who could share his pain.”

Geoffrey grunted then stated, “And you _can't_ do that just because you don't know what he's thinking? He's a fucking idiot.”

“Says the man who also hides so many of his emotions from us sometimes still,” she teased gently. As his ears went a slight red, Elisabeth tucked her hands around his arm and said gently, “I tease, Geoffrey. You have gotten better at doing so, I don’t expect it to be a miracle in a single night.”

“Good, because I typically don’t share. You two are lucky I like you.”

She smiled at his grumpy response then asked softly, “Will you see if he will respond to you?”

He let out a heavy sigh in response before squeezing her hand tightly and lifting it to press a kiss to her knuckles. “For you,” he whispered in a rumbling voice. “And because you ask nicely when you want something instead of just acting like a fucking excited puppy.”

Elisabeth laughed lightly, saying, “You may _act_ annoyed whenever he is excited, Geoffrey McCullum, but I watch you when he turns away. There is a _delight_ in his excitement, such...such an _honesty_ to it. And you are as fond of it as I am.”

Geoffrey let out a scoff against her knuckles but he didn’t release her hand for another moment. “Let’s get this over with,” he murmured and she obligingly lifted her head from his shoulder. Before he quite left the couch, he paused and asked, “What do we do if he tells me to fuck off?”

“Then we attempt this again next year,” she replied simply with a small shrug. Gently, Elisabeth squeezed his hand and lowered her voice as she went on, “We cannot force him to share with us, my dear. We can only hope that he will see that he does not have to shield us from this.”

Sighing, he muttered, “Here’s hoping.” Geoffrey squeezed her hand before he rose and left the room. Elisabeth watched him go, hands folded in her lap, and sighed as she closed her eyes.

“Please, Jonathan,” she murmured softly, “let _one_ of us in.”

* * *

It didn’t take that long to cross through the brownstone to the downstairs room that was Jonathan’s personal office but for some reason it felt _longer_ in this moment. Because of what he now knew? Of the fact that Reid had not only killed _his sister_ but that he was haunted by her memories?

When he’d realized that the man was getting more distant over the past few days, he’d shrugged it off for the most part. Then it went _silent_ and he knew that something was wrong.

And he wondered if he’d missed this moment in the past. He’d always been _vaguely_ aware of Reid in the past, though he’d never acknowledged it from his own end. So how had he not realized the pain the man went through during this time in the past? Had the connection been dulled by space between them?

Or had the relationship they were slowly growing opened up some deeper connection?

Geoffrey let out a huff of breath and shrugged before he ran his fingers through his hair as he approached the door. Either way, the silence made him _uncomfortable_. It wasn’t right.

Rapping his knuckles against the door, he called out, “Reid? You alive in there?” When there was no immediate noise in response, he leaned against the doorframe and rested his hand on the doorknob. “Come on, Reid.”

Still no answer.

He tested the knob and found that it turned underneath his hand, blinking as he stood staring at the door for a moment. Geoffrey slowly pushed the door open, waiting for some kind of violent response to keep him out. Instead he was hit by the sudden tang of blood - of _Jonathan’s_ blood - and shoved the door the rest of the way open, his eyes wide.

The office itself was as he’d expected it: simple and neat with several shelves full of books, a desk across from the door with a lamp that was the only light in the room, and a workbench with various medical equipment that he didn’t personally recognize. There was also an armchair tucked into the right hand corner across from the door and it was there that Reid was slumped, one hand covering his face. The other arm was laid out over the arm of the chair, sleeve rolled up to the elbow, and there were several deep, vicious looking gashes across the skin that were allowing blood to drip into a wide pan on the floor.

And the wounds _weren’t healing_.

“What the fuck are you doing, leech?!” he exploded, charging forward into the office. There was a towel folded on top of the stool in front of the workbench and he snatched it before falling to his knees before the man. As he pressed the cloth to the wounds, Geoffrey noticed that there was a knife - a slim little thing that didn’t look dangerous at all but _any_ knife was dangerous - balanced on the arm of the chair and he reached out to grab it. The moment he brought it closer, he smelt the orichalcum and realized _why_ the wounds weren’t healing.

Reid had coated the edge of the knife in orichalcum.

“Geoffrey?” the man asked softly, not moving in the least.

“Yes, you fucking _idiot_ ,” Geoffrey snarled as he threw the knife onto the workbench. He then pressed both of his hands to the wounds and realized that they were already bleeding through the towel. Standing up, he lifted the arm at a slight angle before shouting, “ _Elisabeth!_ ”

If anyone had pointed out the fact that his voice was _shaking_ at that moment, he would have punched them square in the jaw.

Suddenly she was there next to him, shoulder to shoulder, and her expression was dire. “Oh, Jonathan,” she breathed, her hand cupping the underside of his arm and coming away bloody. She grimaced then asked, “The wounds aren’t healing?”

“Idiot used an orichalcum laced knife,” he snarled back. “Tell me he’s got bandages or fucking something, these wounds don’t heal quick. Even if we clean the edges, it’s going to take more than a minute as deep as he made these.”

“There are some in his medical bag. I’ll retrieve it.”

“Don’t,” Reid groaned but she was already gone, off to retrieve the bag from where it was probably still sitting by the front door. He finally turned his head, lowering his hand from where it covered his eyes, and looking at Geoffrey with a haunted gaze. “Just let it _end_. I’ve had enough.”

Geoffrey grimaced because he’d heard that tone a time or two during his years in the Guard. Then he bared his teeth and growled, “You can’t just fuck off right after I get here, Reid. After all that convincing you did to get me to stay?” He then grimaced again and glanced towards the open door to check if Elisabeth had yet returned before he lowered his voice and went on in a somewhat gentler tone, “You can’t just start shit and then leave me hanging. Not when I…”

_Not when I’m actually starting to feel something._

He coughed, unable to finish out loud, and instead grumbled, “Not when I just got here.”

Reid blinked at him, some emotion flickering in his eyes, and then Elisabeth returned with the bag, dropping it onto the floor next to the blood filled pan. She cast a glance towards the blood and then she opened the bag, reaching inside to dig around until she came up with a needle and some kind of thread. Quickly putting them together, she quietly stated, “Bring his arm down and fold the towel back. If these are as terrible as you say, we must treat them as we would any mortal wound.”

Geoffrey nodded and carefully folded the towel back, allowing her to access the first of the four gashes across other other man’s forearm. To her credit, Elisabeth merely looked at it impassively before she began to work, neatly stitching the separated skin together with a skill that rivaled the medics in Priwen who he had watched at work. Reid made several quiet noises as they worked but didn’t protest or try to stop them. He just...sat there.

It was worrying.

When they were done, Geoffrey gently nudged the pan out of the way with the toe of hit boot and murmured something about getting water. He moved quickly towards the kitchen but the moment he lifted his hand to reach for one of the cabinets where he knew a large bowl was, he froze at the sight of the smeared blood on his hand. Not because he wanted it, no, his stomach in fact lurched _sickly_ at the thought for once.

The last time he had had blood on his hands, a man had died in them. One of his Guards, far away from any of the other patrols at the time or anyone who could have helped. He’d bled out even as Geoffrey had tried to stop it, tried to keep him alive for just one minute longer.

Jonathan wouldn’t die from blood loss, of course, but the mere _thought_ of the man in the place of that Guard, dying under his hands and him unable to stop it...it tore at him. The thought of Reid _dying_ had for so long been one he’d looked forward to, yet now it wasn’t. Now it filled him with dread and a sense of loss that was on par to the thought of one day losing Hawk to old age.

Choking, he tore himself away from the cabinet, shadowstepping across the kitchen to the sink. He hastily turned on the faucet and scrubbed at his hands, digging underneath the fingernails to get every last inch of blood off of them. The process soaked his shirt sleeves and he rolled them up before he stood there for a long moment, water running and one hand braced on the edge of the sink as he covered his mouth with the back of the other. Just trying to work through _what_ he was feeling.

“Geoffrey.”

Elisabeth’s voice from the arched kitchen doorway brought him back to reality and he turned, realizing he hadn’t returned with the water and towels to clean the blood away as he’d intended. “Shit. I’m sorry, I...I…”

She crossed the room towards him, starting to reach out before realizing her own hands were red with Jonathan’s blood. At that point she moved to the sink, standing next to him as she methodically washed it from her hands. He stayed there with her, gaining some kind of strength and solidity from her presence at his shoulder, handing her the towel that was kept near the sink to dry her hands. She took it with a soft smile and then leaned against his shoulder briefly, saying nothing at all. Simply…there.

It was a reminder that he wasn’t alone in this.

“Let’s finish up,” he said quietly and moved to retrieve the bowl he’d originally come after, filling it with lukewarm water from the sink. Elisabeth gathered towels from a cabinet as he did that and they returned to the office together, carefully washing away the blood from around her stitches and gently drying the wounds before they wrapped bandages around the arm.

Jonathan didn’t move an inch throughout it, just sitting there watching them with that broken gaze and his hand over his mouth, the fingers slightly shaking.

When they were done, Elisabeth touched his arm and murmured, “I’ll clean up. Can you take him upstairs?”

“I’ve got him,” he replied with surety. She nodded and set about cleaning up the office and he turned towards Reid, frowning down at the man. Then he leaned down, sliding one arm behind him and the other underneath his legs, growling, “Come on.”

 _That_ finally brought a reaction out of the man as he let out a small yelp and grumbled, “I can _walk_ , Geoffrey!”

“Says the man that nearly bled himself _fucking dry_ ,” he snapped back as he adjusted his grip before he straightened up. Reid wasn’t terribly heavy but Christ he was damned tall and this was distinctly different from the few times he’d carried Hawk either back because of an injury or off to bed when she’d fallen asleep somewhere uncomfortable. Through sheer stubbornness, however, Geoffrey managed to get upstairs to the bedroom and get the other man onto the bed. As he sat down to take off his boots, he didn’t look at Reid as he grumbled, “You scared the shit out of me, y’know that? Even if we can’t die from blood loss, that was fucking terrifying to walk in to.”

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Jonathan flinch before lifting both hands to cover his face.

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” came the slightly muffled voice, cracking on the end note as it broke. “I didn’t...I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“What were you thinking?” Geoffrey asked as he kicked off his second boot. He started to climb onto the bed to lay down next to him before remembering his soaked shirt sleeves and stopped. Instead he gently touched Jonathan’s elbow as he moved to sit next to him, gentling his voice in a way he’d only ever done towards Hawk. “Reid, _talk to me_.”

For a long moment he didn’t think it was going to happen, that the other man was just going to keep his silence. Then he slowly lowered his hands, dropping them onto his chest and revealing the bloody tears smeared across his cheeks. “My sister,” the man whispered softly. “I…” His voice choked up and he looked away, breathing hard, obviously unable to finish what he was saying.

Geoffrey frowned and turned his head slightly, hearing Elisabeth enter the room quietly behind him. As her hand gently touched his back, he took one of Reid’s hands in his and breathed, “Show me.”

“I…”

“ _Jon_ ,” Geoffrey said sternly and the man’s head whipped back around towards him, eyes wide because he’d never called him by his first name. Looking right at him, he firmly stated, “You don’t have to face this _alone_ , you damned fool. Helping to deal with each others problems is supposed to be a thing in a relationship, right? You have to tell me if I’m wrong because I’ve never done this before.”

Elisabeth let out a quiet chuckle and Jonathan smiled weakly - but he _smiled_ \- before he breathed, “Supposed to. I’m not...I’m not used to that. I never... _she_ was the only one I ever really shared with.”

“She?”

Reid closed his eyes and let out a long breath. Then he whispered, “My Mary. My sister. _My twin_.” Both of his hands grasped at Geoffrey’s as the man’s face twisted into a rictus of agony, fresh tears coming on, as he went on, “I killed her, _I killed her_ , and I…” He suddenly rolled over, tall body curling over and around Geoffrey where he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “ _She’s dead and I have happiness, how is that_ ** _fair_** _?_ ”

Christ.

Geoffrey turned his head to look at Elisabeth, feeling her fingers clench across his back. There was a betraying glitter of tears in her eyes and she blinked before smiling at him. As she moved around to the other side of the bed, sliding in on the other side of Jonathan and pressing her hands against his trembling back, he gripped the other man’s hands tightly.

“Wouldn’t she want you to be happy?” he asked gently.

“I don’t know,” Jonathan replied in a choked voice. “All I have are her last thoughts haunting me. Her words in the cemetery before we fought. Before she…” He trailed off with a low keening noise, eyes squeezed shut as he curled himself up even tighter, hands clutching tight at Geoffrey’s.

Glancing at Elisabeth, Geoffrey managed to free one hand from Jonathan’s tight grip and shifted so he could lean over the man’s head, carding his fingers gently through his hair. Letting out a breath, he deliberately focused, opening the connection between them wide and breathed, “Let me in, Jon.”

The man beneath him shook violently and then opened his eyes, looking up at him through eyes red with tears. “I don’t want you to see,” he breathed.

“I’ve seen plenty of leeches rise over the years,” Geoffrey returned. “I... _I_ remember rising with it blinding me to anything else. I’m not...I’m not here to _judge_ you, Reid. I want to help.” He stroked his fingers across the curve of the other man’s ear as he added in a whisper, “Don’t quit on me now. _Show me._ Help me understand.”

Jonathan turned his face away, his entire body shuddered, but Geoffrey wasn’t paying attention to that. He was focused on that thread of a connection between them and held his breath as he felt the shuttered ‘doors’ on the other end slowly inch open. Then it was like a dam burst and Geoffrey grunted, jerking upright and arching his back, fingers clenching in Jonathan’s hair, as _agony_ lanced through his mind.

He felt a ghost of _hunger_ on the back of his tongue, in his throat and stomach, and felt arms around his neck as a woman spoke excitedly from far away. _Oh thank God, it’s you. I knew it. I knew you were alive._ And then her head against his shoulder, arms tight, her heart hammering in her chest - the noise was a roar in his ears. _Everything will be fine again._

Then her blood was in his mouth and there was _sweet, sweet ecstasy_ as he drank and drank and _drank_.

_Oh, Jonathan, my sweet brother. What have you done?_

_Horror_ washed over him and Geoffrey couldn’t think, couldn’t escape it, couldn’t run from it as it drowned him as it had once no doubt drowned Reid. It was everywhere all at once and he was _drowning..._

Then relief then regret then _realization_ as there was a flickering image of a tall woman with dark hair standing in Stonebridge Cemetery, her eyes that stark Ekon blue tainted with the red that spoke of a vampire that ate decently. Husband, dead in France. Son taken by the flu. A brother disappeared into thin air after promising to return. _I longed for your arms, a final happy ending to so much tragedy. To tell me all would be well again as you did when we were children._

Then the wood of the broken cross in his hand, wood rough underneath his fingertips, so familiar and yet so so foreign at once. _Like a rabid dog._ The thump of the wood into her chest, into her heart.

_Then - at last - I can forgive you._

And, just like that, he was free.

Geoffrey drew air into his lungs in needy gasps, eyes wide towards the ceiling of the bedroom as he struggled to cope with what he had seen. With what he had _felt_. Every one of Reid’s emotions there, in his head, as if he felt them himself. As if he had _lost_ Mary Reid himself.

When he finally was able to calm, he shuttered the connection between them but did not close it. It wasn’t all the way shut again on the other side either, open just enough that he could actually feel the other man. Even with the way it was, it was better than it had been over the past week when the connection had slowly been closed off tight from Reid’s end.

Reid was shaking with fine tremors beside him, eyes squeezed shut, and Geoffrey loosened his fingers from their death grip in his hair. With far more gentleness than he usually showed, he smoothed back the mussed hair and carded his fingers through it again.

“She forgave you,” he said gently. “There at the end.”

Jonathan opened his eyes and had to work to clear his throat before he asked, “How can I forgive _myself_? She was my _sister_. She deserved to _live_. How dare I let myself be _happy_ when she lies cold in the ground at my own hand twice over?”

Geoffrey grimaced and looked away, his throat working as he tried to swallow past a sudden knot in his throat. How indeed? Had he ever forgiven _himself_ for Ian? Would he? The answers were no and probably not and that was a reality he had to live with.

Looking down, he said, “You know what I did to my brother, Reid. He was driven mad by what he’d become. So was she, you said it yourself.”

“I could have _helped her_ if she’d but let me!” Jonathan half-shouted, his body tensing like a wire. Then all that taut energy drained back out of him and he choked, “I _should_ have helped her.”

“Oh, Jonathan, _you did_ ,” Elisabeth said soothingly, inching in closer towards them. She wrapped her hand around their joined ones and leaned down to press a kiss against his cheek. “You helped her, my love. Now let us help you.”

“Why do _I_ deserve it?” he asked morosely.

Geoffrey sighed and snapped in a quick, unthought reply, “Because we _love you_ , fool.” As soon as the words were out he wanted to snatch them back. It was far too _soon_ for those words to be spoken. He still didn’t...he still wasn’t sure of everything he felt about them and this arrangement.

But he knew he didn’t want Jonathan hurting like this.

Elisabeth seemed to notice his distress as she straightened up and quickly suggested, “Why don’t you get changed out of that shirt, Geoffrey? Then rejoin us on the bed, yes?”

“I...yeah. That sounds like a plan.” Looking down, he squeezed Reid’s hand and said, “I’ll be right back.” The other man looked like he wanted to say something and he prayed that he _wouldn’t_ because he couldn’t deal with that kind of conversation right now. Thankfully Reid didn’t, just squeezing his hand before he let it go and shifted his grip to Elisabeth.

As Geoffrey climbed off the bed and walked over to the space his bag occupied in the room - he still hadn’t settled in yet, hadn’t let this place become _home_ \- he could hear the bed creaking behind him as they shifted into a better position on it. He quickly unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it off to the side to be picked up later, pulling out another that Hawk had fished up from somewhere for one of his birthday’s in the last thirty years. It was a soft gray knitted fabric, probably meant for warmth for someone actually mortal but mostly for comfort for someone like him. As he tugged it on over his head, smoothing the fabric down over his belly, he realized with a tremble of fear that he _was_ starting to think of this place as home.

No. Not the place.

_Them._

Turning back to look at the two of them, Geoffrey stood there for a long moment, just staring at the pair of them. Jonathan was settled back into the center of the bed, sprawled on his stomach, his arms wrapped around the pillow tucked underneath his head. Elisabeth had her head on his shoulder as she moved her hand across his back in gently soothing motions, a soft humming coming from her that he could just barely pick up.

He wanted to _keep them_. He _wanted_ to stay.

The terror of this moment, of the sheer idea of _losing_ Reid, had brought him to this realization.

It was fucking _terrifying._

But his feet led him back to the bed and not to the door and he stretched out on Jonathan’s other side, propping his chin on one hand and resting the other on the other man’s lower back. As Reid turned his head around to look at him, eyes heavily lidded and tired, he felt a sudden jolt of fear that he was going to comment on what he’d said. Instead the man just smiled and he felt a surge of warmth come across their connection, instantly relaxing his muscles and banking the edges of his fear.

“Geoffrey,” the man murmured and he laid his head down near his, their lips inches from each others.

“Reid,” he replied, earning a soft chuckle.

“What happened to Jon?”

Geoffrey blinked then let his gaze dart away as he coughed and grumbled, “That’ll...take some getting used to using.”

Jonathan chuckled and crossed the small distance between them, pressing a soft kiss against his lips for the briefest of seconds. “I can wait,” he murmured. “We have time.”

“Time?” Geoffrey repeated, wanting to shift the topic of conversation away from him. He sat up again and ignored Elisabeth’s little smirk that she was giving him, asking, “That’s a sudden change from wanting everything to end.” When the other man immediately flinched he almost regretted his words but they didn’t send him back into a downward spiral.

Instead Reid licked his lips before he began, “I...her memories...they blind me to the things that I have. To the good things still in my life, that I still have to live for. And this year, with _you_ arriving on our doorstep, I just...it all crashed together to make an utter mess.” His eyes then darted up to Geoffrey’s and he added, “I don’t want to leave when we’ve barely even started.”

Coughing, Geoffrey looked away from him for a long moment before he leaned in and pecked a short kiss against Jonathan’s forehead, hissing a quiet, “ _Good_.” He then glared at Elisabeth and growled, “You _hush_. Don’t say a fucking word.”

“Of course not, my dear,” she purred in reply as she traced circles across Jonathan’s back. “I would never suggest you actually do have a _soft_ side.”

Geoffrey scoffed at that and grumbled, “Better damned not.”

He _didn’t_ have a soft side.

Except with Hawk.

And maybe, _just maybe_ , he was growing one with these two fools.

* * *

He was _warm._

He was _safe._

He was...he was _content_.

Despite the ache still weighing heavily on his heart, despite the _guilt_ still dragging at him even worse than it had in the last thirty years, despite...despite _everything_.

He had two people who cared about him, who _loved him_ (though Geoffrey had probably never meant to say such a thing out loud judging by his expression after).

Jonathan let himself relax with the feel of them on either side of him, Elisabeth’s hand tracing featherlight patterns across his shoulders while Geoffrey’s hand merely rested heavily on his lower back. The feel of their bodies pressed against his own was comforting, reassuring him of their presence at his side.

 _I’m sorry, Mary_ , he thought sleepily as he drifted off, coaxed into sleep by a mix of exhaustion, blood loss, and the rumble of their voices on either side of him.

_Forgive me, I want to live for them._


End file.
